


My Name Is--

by chii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, dubcon, no church no, not really science, what the hell am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Partial events AU.] Texas is deteriorating, and the next best solution is to stick her in the body of the next best agent. [ Dubious consent issues on Carolina's part. ] written before we knew who Texas/Carolina were to each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name Is--

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for triggers here! Dubcon/could call it noncon, really, as imo there would be no way that Carolina'd ever bone the Director. 
> 
> Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing either.

( My name is Allison. )

 

 

The decision to put Texas into Carolina is not one that he makes lightly. He understands what it is he's doing, he understands that this is a line he told himself he would never cross, but that means nothing, not right now when he feels like he's going insane, the longer these experiments drag out, the longer everything continues, and the more that Texas shows signs of her.

She's not Allison, the Counselor has made that very, very clear, and he understands that, he does, but that doesn't stop his breath from catching when she moves, robot or not, that doesn't make him ache any less when he sees her on the field and can't help but think about how much he missed, how much poorer he was for having never seen her like this in real life.

Carolina is warned, of course-- he doesn't take these things lightly, and the idea to take the twins away is one she doesn't protest; he has a guess as to why, of course. She is, of course, his number one performer in the ranks- Texas is in a league all of her own and while she does register on the boards, she’s been failing. It doesn’t take a doctor to realize that, and the knowledge weighs heavy, overwhelming on Church’s shoulders. 

He’ll fix it, though. Carolina had agreed when this all started, that she would do whatever it took to help them achieve what was needed. 

After all, she’s the best choice for this, all things considered. She's bent over backwards for his tasks, multiple times; he would be a fool not to recognize that- implanting Texas (Allison, her name is Allison) is only another step in that. 

 

( My name is Allison. ) 

( Your name can be whatever you want it to be, but this is _my body_. Remember that. )

The duo together work far better than Carolina with the twins; he might have known, really, and he watches them on the field, sees flashes of red hair as she spars, watches her take down agent after agent, and can't help but think this was a better decision. Texas’ deterioration is stopped, and he trusts that Carolina is able to keep the secret. It works. 

 

_( My name is-- )_

_( Our name is-- )_  
  
In the end, he isn't surprised when she shows up at his door, late at night. The two of them have been bleeding into each other – the Counselor had warned him, of course, but it was disregarded in the name of progress, of moving forward. She looks everything and nothing like her, right then, and Church opens the door a little wider, letting her in, realizing he isn't quite sure which name to call her, not when they've blended together so well. He had almost worried that the combination would be worse, for their rivalry, but instead, it seemed to make it less sharp, the two of them working together for a shared goal and that seemed to be enough. The only issue is that he can't say with 100% surety that the reason he did this is for the greater good of humanity, not when he's sure that the biggest reason he did this is because he's lonely, and he misses her more than anything.

“It's a little late for a visit,” Church murmurs lightly, settling down in his chair, watching her move and he knows- god, it's pathetic, maybe, but he knows that sway to her hips, he knows the way she's moving. It's been years, but she's more like Allison than Texas ever was, and much as the thought aches, he can't stop himself from reaching out with one hand and cupping her hip as she moves in close. “Is this Allison, or--”

“Both.”

She-- they settle in his lap, all loose limbs and grace, and she doesn't feel the same as Allison did-- taller, leaner, longer hair, but he doesn't resist, doesn't do anything but press his hands to her face and tug her in, letting her arch over him like a ghost, hands digging into his shirt, parting cloth to find skin to drag her nails over.

( this is your fault. don't pretend like you don't know what you're doing. )

He shoves the voice down, focusing instead on her, on the way she moves, on all the way she reminds him of Allison and tries not to think about how Carolina wouldn't do this, not if Allison-- not if Texas wasn't in her head, influencing every move she made. He wasn't a fool; he knew that the AI had an effect on all of the Freelancers-- Wyoming, Maine, all of them were proof of that. It stood to reason that Allison would be the same, but that brought up thoughts he was far more comfortable not thinking of. Perhaps it made him a coward.

“I want your attention on me,” Allison says, and there's just enough Carolina in it, in the way she shifts, holds herself all the straighter, that he doesn't object.

Allison's always hated his desk, but that doesn't make it any less convenient, settling down on it as she strips him out of his clothing and lets him do the same to her. There's nothing mutual about the way they do this-- it's all Allison, taking and taking and taking until there's nothing else, shoving Church down on the desk and riding him until Carolina's knees are aching and her breasts are next to over-sensitive as he drags his lips and beard over soft skin.

Carolina doesn't have it in her to argue, not right now, not with Allison overriding her, and shoving Church's hands back down between their legs when he tries to hold their hips; Church doesn't object, no, he knows better than that. He only leans in and presses kisses to her breasts, fingers sliding wet and slick between her thighs, rubbing in firm circles until she comes and even then she doesn't let him, riding him too slow to do anything but frustrate him.

“Darling--”

“No.”

Allison slides off and into his chair with a boneless little move, feet spread, and Carolina doesn't know _what_ to think about the sight of the Director on his knees in front of her, sliding hands up her thighs and licking into her hot and wet and overwhelming against sensitive skin, sending her writhing in the chair because it's been ages since she'd ever indulged in anything remotely similar.

Orgasm builds up hot and fast in her belly and sends her arching, her legs tightening over his shoulders as she rides two of his fingers and presses her palm to her mouth to stifle herself even as Allison stretches out in the back of her mind like some lazy, sated cat, entirely unconcerned with anything right now.

 _We aren't spending the night_ , Carolina hisses to her, trying to gain some kind of power back during this, and doesn't miss the way that Allison laughs at her, open and mocking.

_I rarely do._

It's not that thought that unsettles her, though. No, it's the sight of Church pressing his lips to her knees, up her thighs, and touching her like she's fragile, looking at her the same way York does. He has no right to look at her like that-- no reason to, and she finds herself overriding Texas, pushing him back and not paying any attention to the fact that he's still hard. He's not York, he's not-- he's the _Director_ and he doesn't-- he shouldn't look at her like that, not after this.

“We're--” Carolina starts, and presses her hand to her mouth as she dresses, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she tries to get it done as fast as she can. Distantly, she's aware of Church standing, silently pulling on boxers and his slacks and watching her every move, making her feel like more of a bug pinned to a display than anything else. “I'm-- going back to my room.”

It's the first time she's ever told him something rather than asked, and Church doesn't object; he inclines his head faintly, and by the time he looks up, she's already gone and all he's left with is the realization that the Counselor was right and this was an awful idea.

 

Carolina unlocks the door when she gets back, hands trembling faintly, and doesn't let _her_ object as she takes her out and sets her hard on the coffee table next to her bed, only to find York sitting there, arms crossed. Were it any other time, she would have seen him, she would have recognized that someone had gotten into her room, but right now, all she can do is just stare, drawing herself up and opening her mouth to scold him, but he just shakes his head.

“Don't, okay?”

York curls a hand at the nape of her neck, and the other around her waist, dragging her into a loose hug, careful to give her plenty of time and room to get away. He doesn't know if it's worse or better that she just sags against him, doesn't know what to make of the fact he sees faint teeth marks on her throat, purplish spots on the curves of her breasts as he nudges her to bed, gentle.

Allison wants her to be angry, but Allison isn't the one in control right now, and Carolina herself is too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and let him tuck her in. He curls a hand in her hair, just enough to tuck it back, but doesn't crawl into bed with her. He doesn't do anything more than sit on the edge of the cot and smooth her hair back until she falls asleep, laughing faintly when she just looks at him in the dark, frowning.

“Can't sleep?” he asks gently, with far more evenness in his tone than he ever thought possible with having realized some of what happened. “Could sing you a song but I think that'd just keep you up.”

Carolina doesn't smile, she doesn't do anything other than curl an arm around his waist, pleased that he takes the hint and scoots in closer, lets her spoon up against him, as he cards his fingers through her hair, humming faintly. “Tell me about me,” she orders quietly, and presses the tip of her nose against his leg, everything feeling cold right then, even with all the blankets piled on top of her.

It's not the first time she's asked it, which is why he doesn't tease, doesn't poke fun at her gently and ask her when she became so narcissistic. It happened to most of them, save for York; they all needed reminders of who they were under the AI, and Carolina had needed the most out of all of them with two different personalities splicing with her own and overriding her. York doesn't question her, he just leans over her, protective, his back to the door in case anyone comes in and starts talking, low and soft and telling her about all the things that make her _her_.


End file.
